


IMPROMPTU VACATION

by AgnesClementine



Series: Coldwave Winter week 2018 [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coldwave Winter Week 2018, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 20:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17050214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: He blinks at the whiteness surrounding them through the windshield- and the small cottage a few feet away. Huh.“Where are we?”Mick grunts, “Five hours out of Keystone, give or take.”Which is all nice and good, but- he pointedly looks at the cabin.Mick shuffles, as much as he can with Len’s feet still in his lap.“Right. Rory family winter cabin.” He says.Oh.**************************************18th December- prompt: On the run/road trip + winter cabin





	IMPROMPTU VACATION

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is what I did with the prompt for the 18th December.
> 
> Let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

They're totally running. The car they stole has heating that rattles when turned on and the backseat is housing two duffel bags with their stuff. The bags are not even zipped up and Len can see a pair of his jeans poking out from the mess of Mick's shirts.

They’re totally running- even if Len may prefer to call it a strategic retreat. Mick definitely prefers to call it that, grumbling about the noisy heating and squinting out at the snowy road. There was some unwelcome heat on them back in Central and just getting the hell out of the dodge was easier than dealing with it. Anyway, they’ll be back when the dust settles and nobody sees them coming. But for now, they’re running.

Len went out of the city before, sure, but the vast openness of the fields feels more welcome when it’s covered in snow and the horizon is colored in soft, baby blue. It’s still snowing, but nowhere near as hard as it was in the morning. Small, delicate snowflakes stick to the window glass and melt in mere seconds before Len’s eyes. He leans his forehead against the cool glass and listens to Mick swearing about the “goddamn snow on the road” and tapping his fingers on the wheel in rhythm with Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven. Not very holiday themed, but the carols have been getting on their nerves for a while now. There’s only so much “Jingle bells” that a man can hear before he contemplates stuffing his ears with cotton. Or murder.

And rattling or not, heating is a welcome luxury that not all of the cars they “ _borrowed_ ” over the years have. Len crosses his arms over his chest and tucks his hands against his sides.

He lifts up his legs, stretching them and placing on Mick’s lap, carefully not to disturb his driving.

Mick huffs, shooting him a look, “Really?”

Len grins, warm, with miles of open, snowy road ahead of them, and closes his eyes.

  * ●●●●



He wakes up when the car comes to the stop, music cutting off and Mick patting his calf to rouse him from sleep. He blinks at the whiteness surrounding them through the windshield- and the small cottage a few feet away. Huh.

“Where are we?”

Mick grunts, “Five hours out of Keystone, give or take.”

Which is all nice and good, but- he pointedly looks at the cabin.

Mick shuffles, as much as he can with Len’s feet still in his lap.

“Right. Rory family winter cabin.” He says.

_Oh_.

“Are we just gonna sit in the car until tomorrow or?” Len switches the topic to something safer. Mick will share when and if he wants; Len’s not too keen to talk about feelings either.

Mick huffs. “I’d get out, but _someone_ decided I’m a footrest,” he grumbles. Len grins and shifts back into a sitting position, quickly opening the door and stepping out into the cold. It immediately nips at his exposed skin, turning his breath into a white mist. He finds it easier to breathe here, with fresh air filling up his lungs.

Mick, swearing at how cold it is, stomps over to him. He shoves one of the duffels at Len, “Let’s get inside before we freeze.”

They trudge through the snow to the cabin, icicles hanging from the edge of the roof and falling down when Mick firmly closes the door once they’re safely inside. “The door’s been tricky since I can remember.” Mick tells him.

The place is… nice. Len can tell it’d be a little cramped in here with a handful of siblings, but also welcoming if the way Mick runs his hand over the shelf housing family photos is any indication. The kitchen and living room are one huge space, and Mick gives him a brief tour of the rest. There’s a storage room, full of various knick-knacks and with the backup generator that Mick immediately turns on. The next are the master bedroom, his parents’, and the huge bedroom he shared with his siblings. There are six beds in it and Mick sets his bag on the second one from the door. Len assumes it’s his bed. He sets his own bag next to Mick’s and they exit the room silently.

The thing is, everything is clean. This place is well cared for and it’s been years since the fire happened, so there’s nobody except Mick to keep everything running. Len tries to imagine how it felt to come here for the first time after his family died and shivers. Mick is far stronger than people give him credit for, and this obviously isn’t an exception.

But again, Len doesn’t ask.

  * ●●●●



Len takes a walk around the cabin grounds when Mick banishes him from the kitchen. Being born and raised in Central City doesn’t leave a lot of opportunities to take a trek through the woods, so Len enjoys it while he can and finds out how easy it is to get lost. Thankfully, the snow makes for a great surface to leave footprints on and he follows them back to the cabin.

“You’re back already?” Mick asks him when he enters the cabin. And yeah, the door is tricky; it opens on its own because lock won’t sit in place and Len has to almost slam it for it to close properly. He watches at icicles hit the ground through the window and smash into dozen glinting pieces.

Mick is still in the kitchen, his back to Len. Len gives him a look nonetheless.

“I love the cold, but it doesn’t mean I want frostbites.” He tells him.

Mick snorts and keeps stirring the stew.

  * ●●●●



Len noticed the warmth when he got back from the walk, but hasn’t noticed the radiators along the walls until he leaned against one and almost burned himself.

Mick keeps snickering at the way he yelped for the rest of the day. _Asshole_.

  * ●●●●



Len’s getting over his food semi-coma, almost dozing on the couch when Mick steps in front of that shelf with photos again. Len can’t see his expression, but reads the guilt and sadness in the lines of his shoulders.

He gets up to take a look for himself, standing close enough to Mick to feel the warmth radiating from him.

There are framed photos through the whole length of the shelf. Some have a couple, Mick’s parents, smiling at the camera. His mom has dark hair curling around her shoulders, corners of her green eyes crinkling as she smiles. Mick, on rare occasions, has her smile when he smiles. Other photos are those of his siblings. There’s one with all of them pressed close to fit in the frame, grinning with arms slung around each other. They look that kind of happy you’d expect to see on a family show on the TV.

Mick’s looking at the one with his whole family squeezed on the couch. One of his little sisters is making a face at the camera while his two younger brothers seem to be in tug war for the remote. Mick is sharing an exasperated look with his sister. His mom has a ‘help’ expression aimed straight at the camera and his dad seems mildly amused by the whole ordeal.

Len knocks their shoulders lightly. “So what’s the plan?”

Mick breaks out of his trance to give him a confused look. _Yeah, he’s usually the one making plans, he knows_.

He shrugs.

“Uh, nothing?” Mick says questioningly.

Len grins, taking him by the wrist and tugging him back towards the couch because he’s not sure how else to show comfort.

  * ●●●●



“Scoot.”

Mick cracks his eyes open and lifts his head to look at Len. He’s sprawled over the bed they claimed when they got here and Len scowls at him.

“What? No, this is my bed, I got dibs.” Mick tells him.

Len scrunches up his nose, “No, you don’t.”

“Do too.” Mick responds and lets his head fall back on the pillow and his eyes close. Len scowls again and changes into black pajama bottoms and a worn and a washed out shirt that he honestly can’t remember if it’s his or Mick’s.

He drapes himself over Mick- the single bed is not designed for two grown men- and throws the comforter over them. One of Mick’s arms winds up around Len’s lower back and he shoves his hands under Mick’s shirt, resting over his sides.

Mick grunts with discomfort- because even at the best of times, Len’s hands are awfully cold- so Len nuzzles his jaw and kisses him in an apology.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hm?” Mick doesn’t even bother to open his eyes. Len grins into his skin.

“Thanks.” He whispers.

Mick finally opens his eyes to give him a confused and doubtful look. “What for?”

“Taking me here.” Len hasn’t intended for his voice to be that soft and genuine, but he’s not taking it back now. Anyway, Mick doesn’t mind.

He nods, swallowing, and Len kisses him again because touchy-feely talks are not their thing. Besides, Mick will tell him when he’s ready.


End file.
